I thought I'd have a go at this, I'm Definitely not a writer lol. Apologies in advance.
The day is drawing to a end, I've tried to keep myself busy while you work in the office.
My last task of the day is to clean the play room, this room is my favourite one in the house.
The room that allows Sirs fantasy's and desires run wild.
Where I give my mind and body and soul to him and allow him to play.
For they are his.
A room that takes me places that one could only dream to go.
The door opens with a slight creek, that little noise draws my mind straight to him.
I can always hear when you enter the room.
My eyes dart across the room, your collection of toys always amazes and excites me.
As I clean I get closer to your toy box, thoughts drift through my mind.
Lustfull and thirsty thoughts.
Showing me just how needy I can be.
Thoughts of you, and how you use your tools as if you where making art.
I open the box, my eyes glisten with excitement.
Yet a reminder lingers in my my mind.
These are Sirs tool, for his use only.
My eyes distracted by the ropes that hang on the wall, the feel of them in my hand makes my body tingle.
I run my fingers along them they remind me of silk on my skin.
Unforgiving at times but soft, I entwine my fingers through them the tightness it brings makes my body quake.
I remind my self that this is not the task that has been set.
My eyes go to a roller that has been left on the bench.
My thoughts drift once again.
These tools that you use cause pleasure and pain a form of release.
Feeding the hunger that lingers inside.
As I hold it in my hand, it makes my mind run wild.
Tools that only belong in Sirs hands.
Thoughts run through my head, would it feel the same if I tried it instead?
I place my foot on a small stool , bend over and place the roller against my skin.
The feel of it cold and unforgiving against my skin.
When Sir uses the rollers, they set my senses on fire.
My body burns for him with desire.
A silent reminder of why these tools belong to him.
As I start to roll it on my leg, a feel a hand run up the inside of my thigh.
Slowly buy surly making its way up higher.
Yet no door creeked,
As this hand runs up my thigh the, other one runs up my back .
I feel him lean over me yet only his breath is heard.
His body preseed against mine.
A reminder of who I belong to.
His breath fills warm against my skin as my body softens, for its his touch that I yearn.
His hand has made it to the back of my neck
A soft growl can be heard, a sign of his hunger a desire a thirst for what is his.
His to take anytime that please's him.
A desire that makes me bight my lip.
A growl that makes me week at the knees and overly wet
A single word is said
"Kitten"
Nothing more and nothing less.
The silence seems to feel like for ever.
Only your breath on my neck.
Your hand that once ran up my tigh, now notices that I'm wet.
" needy kitten, those toys are for my hands not yours"
